the laid.back Buddhist has MOVED...back!

Tuesday, July 31

Facebook Mirrors & Confessions

Wow. Just realized how losing 7 lbs has changed me from a year ago.

Looking at old pics of me tagged on Facebook, I realized I hadn't noticed the difference. Which explained why I was always surprised when other people said during the year that I lost weight and looked good. I look in the mirror everyday, and I always feel the same. This summer I've worked off another 5 lbs and toned up from yoga... I wonder when I see new pics of myself with friends if I'll have another surprised "wow" moment. Or if, I'll have to wait another year before I see a difference?

I've plateaued at 139 lbs (goal is 132). Damn, those last 7 really ARE the toughest, especially because I've always had a small tummy since the 6th grade when I stopped swimming competitively (and finished my growth spurt).

Reminded that I need to trim my hair. I've been abuliating about having bangs again for a MONTH now. I oughta just make the damn cut, so that I have some weeks to grow it out a bit if I don't like it. Really wanted to try something new, but am impatient at growing bangs out. Perhaps I'll be able to come to a compromise and try long bangs...? Eh, we'll see.

Ack! Okay, and I confess to looking at his Sweden pics. I was apprehensive of the aftermath feelings, but they were more sweet (surprisingly) than anything else. I don't want to label another entry in his name (because he is the #1 topic I post about, again due credit goes to my Tag Cloud), but...had to be honest, especially with myself. Grrr.

I also confess that I've been thinking of skipping out on my 6 AM yoga class tomorrow. *guilty eyes*

This is why I'm stuck on 139, hah.

5 Signs of Serious Attraction

Well, at least the 5 tell-tale (physical) signs for me.

Often in (and inclined to be protective of) my own world, I’m a hopeless case at being a flirt…I’m much better (and more at ease) with the aim of making friends and sharing laughter. Shoot, I’m usually the one being teased instead! But IF I start to like a guy after getting to know him a little, well see, something happens...

And this something turns on this flirtatious drive to seduce (and to be seduced).

My body language becomes directed towards and focused indirectly on him. Just him. In a crowd, he’ll stand out and everyone else is a blur. Beyond simply sharing laughter, I want to make him laugh. I become hyper-sensitive to him and any touch of his makes a lasting impression. And so you see, common parts of his body suddenly become of Much Interest to me.

For fun (and for my own future reference), I’ve compiled a list of some tell-tale physical signs my crush is getting some kind of serious.

And, because I’m on a list-making frenzy, apparently.

  1. I like his hands.
  2. I get caught up in his smell.
  3. I think his butt is cute.
  4. I like touching his hair.
  5. I find his voice sexy.

His Hands

There is just something about male hands which simply slays me. And, I’m not exactly sure why this phenomenon exists.

Something in my female psyche gets hypnotized by how they’re bigger than my own and will always win thumb wars, no matter how many times (and ways, for when war is declared some old-fashioned, good-natured cheating is never beneath me). I like their slight roughness. I like being surprised by their versatility. I like watching them in action, whether it’s dribbling a basketball, wielding a BB gun, holding an umbrella (or me!), fixing things, waving in the air to emphasize a point, preparing food, or just lightly touching my hair.

The list goes on…and will probably never end.

As I become more aware of my self, I’m realizing the extent of this rather primal fascination, especially if it’s with a guy I like. You see, with my former lover, sometimes when we cuddled, watched a movie, or were simply pillow-talking, I’d like to feel his hands, run my fingers over a healed blister. As I say how nice his hands are to me, I’d absently press into his palms in a sort of mini-massage. I liked the sensation of my hands being held by his and of his fingers gently tapping against my bare skin to a tune of his own whim.

Okay, I’m starting to veer off in nostalgia…

Basically, as I become more aware of my self, I’m realizing the extent to which I’m a complete sucker for a guy’s hands.


His Scent

It’s something I recently discovered and really, really cannot deny. Not a strong smell per se, rather it’s something I can’t quite put my finger on…but I know is his personal scent.

Case in point? Kenneth Cole Black smells good, but smells that much better on a guy when it mixes with this basic masculine scent. It’s different and somehow more powerful. I know I really dig a guy when I randomly sniff him. Hah, I must sound like an animal, huh? I will rest my head on his shoulder for the sake of breathing him in. His hugs are special…are memorable…not just for the way his body feels against mine, but because his scent will dominate my sense of reality.

Guys worry about their B.O., especially if I smell nice. But honestly, when a guy is sweaty, that’s the last thing on my mind. Watching a guy work out is hot (as I discovered for the first time last Spring when a friend introduced me to the beauty called the weight-training room…yes, I am behind the times). Hot damn, sweaty skin is sexy as sin.

Hm. I’m making this an addendum to my list: if I want to watch you work out, I am thinking about jumping your bones…and if I’m thinking that, boy I really like you.


His Butt

Really, need I say any more?

Okay, I do.

In jeans (please not hang-low baggy, we're not high school wannabe thugs anymore) and in boxers or briefs. When I'm at the stage where a guy and I are comfortable enough with each other, I'll take that teasing swat at his gluteus maximus. Usually that means I won't mind a playful pat on my own derriere (read: hint, hint). And I'll confess, I've only recently realized this newfound love for holding a guy's behind, particularly if said guy is naked.

When I'm attracted, I love every opportunity to look at his behind. Apparently, I tend to do this thing where I'll sometimes fall back a few steps to just watch him walk. When he turns around, I look up to meet his eyes and smile, letting him know that yes, I was (again) totally checking out that mighty cute butt of his.

*cue Cheshire cat-like grin*

As I said, something seems to get...unleashed.


His Hair

I know it's something else when I have an urge to touch a guy's hair. Preferably while he’s resting in my lap.

I like the slightly gelled hair and cute spikes as much as the next girl, but what I like more is hair I can run my fingers through, over and over again. It’s intimate and relaxing, my guilty pleasure that satisfies some mothering instinct.


His Voice

This is another one of those things I am a complete sucker for. Which is why if I can't stand a guy's voice (it's nasal, high-pitched, sounds whiny, etc), I'm sorry--but the most that he and I can hope to be is friends.

And, once my heart is engaged, I will love how his voice sounds. Whether it's on the phone, first thing in the morning, during an argument, whispering something naughty by my ear, giving me a compliment...saying my name. I will remember all the tones for when he's surprised, pleased, proud, frustrated, tired, sad, hesitant, worried...or, aroused. I will remember exactly how his voice can shoot straight to the heart center, to overwhelmingly stun my senses. And, I will know just how attracted I am to him.

Hit all 5?

Well gotta say that's Some Serious Attraction, indeed.

Monday, July 30

10 Non-First Dates

...that I would find appealing.

  1. Kayaking
  2. Or, canoeing
  3. Mountain biking*
  4. Spelunking
  5. Shooting range
  6. Or, archery
  7. Go-karting
  8. Camping
  9. Rock climbing*
  10. Motorcycle ride through the countryside

*have tried, and confirmed as Very Appealing.


Basically, 10 things I’d like to do with someone I’m dating or at that implied exclusiveness stage with.

Then again, if I’m at the implied exclusiveness stage, I'd also be thinking about strip poker. I've no idea why this is so, but ever since the idea piqued my interest, it's not only stuck....

It has become a must-try.

Friday, July 27

That Dylan Ratigan...

Takes no bullshit.

My favorite question was when he asked, “By that [risk is being repriced] do you mean the market is riskier?”

Henry 'Hank' Paulson wasn’t a former Goldman Sachs CEO for nothing, and gave a good (and valid) response.

But jeez, this is why I love watching Dylan Ratigan in action.

I don’t watch much television. And during the school year, barely at all. Hell, I don’t even own a TV! When I do watch (which is always more during the summer), it mainly consists of Oprah re-runs and CNBC, the favorites being Closing Bell (Maria Bartiromo), Fast Money, and sometimes Morning Call. With the occasional Food Network, Travel Channel, HGTV, and Good Morning America.

Wow. Just realized I sound like my mother. Who, by the way, is sharp as a whip.

More so, it seems these days. After watching this morning's Whitehouse Summit on CNBC with her, I sighed with satisfaction, “Dylan Ratigan is one of my favorites.”

She surprised me by replying, “I don’t really like him, his face looks too hard.”

So some meaning gets lost in translation. But my guard was up… you see, I remember who else she claimed looked too ‘rough.’

“He must have some German background in him, somewhere.”

Aha, there we go. Guard is now FULLY up and buzzing.

My reaction was a careful, “Oh, really? Huh.”

Not the brightest response per se, but I maintained just enough nonchalance to get the subject dropped. If I got defensive, she’d seize the opportunity to poke me about him, you know who...my Formerly 365. Like the time I got all riled up when she called him less manly for not working while he was studying abroad. His driving ambitions is one of the things that always appealed to me. And, I heatedly pointed out to mom, I don’t work either except for having been a RA and doing volunteer work.

“But he’s male.”

Right, gotta love how modern yet in some ways still very traditional my mom is.

She, whose sixth sense is never far from the mark, has been trying several months now to confirm her suspicions that he is not simply a good friend of mine ("What do you mean he's coming by the house?" and "Why does he need to see you before he leaves for Europe, if it's just friends?").

It is utterly pointless for me to lie to my mom, I just can’t do it. That doesn’t mean, though, that over the years I haven’t learned how to deal with it. I have, and picked up quite a few other things as well.

I can honestly--and thus convincingly say--that we never dated and that he’ll never be my boyfriend. I know when I couldn’t stop laughing because she had said, “...going to an international school, he must’ve played a lot of girls,” allayed some of her worst fears (or maybe worried her more?). Anyhow, that we are just friends (now) is undeniable. It's my gold card that I hide behind, the golden line I use to keep my mom from digging up the past.

But who do you think I learned to pay attention to the small things from?

She noticed, and promptly verbalized, that I seemed to be happier after receiving his postcard. Carefully watching me when she asked if I kept in touch while he was in Europe, and oh, did he send an email? Really? What did he say? Ahh, hm.

Because she understands who I am (sometimes better than myself), she knows and sees all those characteristics I find attractive in him. She’s comfortable with us being friends, but is constantly on the look-out that I haven’t fallen for him.

Because her mother's instinct knows it’d spell disaster for me, the daughter who is like her younger self in many, many ways.

Oh, the irony.

Thursday, July 26

Playing Favorites

“Aw babe, you know you’re my favorite sister!”

To which my kid sis rolls her eyes and responds with, “That’s because I’m your only one.”

“Well, you know, Mom taught us to make the best of a worst case scenario.”

Then, one time she surprised me by replying slyly, “Then you do know that I’ll ALWAYS be younger than you.”

HA! Sheesh, the punk makes a valid point. Now, when did little Miss Smarty-pants grow a smarty-mouth?

Wednesday, July 25

On The First Rule of Courtship

[Second Rule of Courtship: here]
"You don't sit down and write a wish list about the person you are going to fall violently in love with. It just doesn't work like that. " - Stephen Fry
I've decided. It’s quite simple, really.

And no, I am NOT writing on this subject with the inane idea that some dream guy (especially since I’ve no idea what one'd look like, my fantasy guy is usually this dark blur...) will for some reason read my blog and then proceed to ask me out (which'd be slightly weird). Ha! Though it’d make for a rather interesting Korean drama story line, I'll admit...

No, I’m selfishly writing this for myself, from what I’ve learned about relationships, especially this past year. About what attracts me and would keep me attracted.

See, I am confident in possessing a fair amount of practical good sense, which means I ought to admit to being very naïve at times.
Okay, most times.
True, I am this idealistic optimist and hopeless romantic. I don’t learn until I personally experience it...and after I inevitably encounter a tough lesson, I do become a more realistic of an optimist, but still entertain the same hopelessly romantic notions! It’s like how when parents explicitly tell their curiously rebellious child NOT to play with fire matches behind the family's incense urn. You don’t learn to be careful until after you’ve been burned several strands of singed hair, resulting in the most mortifying bowl cut. Ever. And then! Even after learning your lesson, you continue to play with fire...but are just a whole lot smarter about it (and tie hair back). Or find acceptable substitutes, like sparklers!!!!

Whoops! I’m digressing from the whole point of this post. It’s just that adore sparklers! You know, if a guy gave me sparklers, I’d be just as delighted as if he’d given me flowers, probably even more. But shhh! I'd want the flowers, too.

Right, back to the point.
Basically, I'm writing this to get to know myself better. Since I have quite a lot to say (and really, when have I ever not?), I’ll run them by one post at a time.

1. BEING A GOOD-LOOKING SCHMUCK DOES NOT GIVE YOU A GET-OUT-OF-JAIL-FREE CARD.
Because if love were a game of monopoly, then you'd also be paying me rent for even stopping by my doorstep.

But, you also shouldn’t have a beer belly, okay? Not paying basic attention to your physical self is a flag for me. If you can’t treat yourself right, why the hell should I expect you to be able to treat me right? How you love yourself speaks volumes not only about you as person, but also how you might love me as well. If you don't care enough about things like good eating habits or staying healthy, then I'd be more prone to assume that you're likely to be lazy in other physical acts... catch my drift?

On a different but related side note, beauty is also highly subjective for me. Yes, Pierce Brosnan is a sexy son of a gun (and makes the teen part of my heart fall into a heap of sighs), but that sort of attraction is fun for its utter superficiality, you know? Pierce Brosnan is occasional eye-candy. Eye-candies get rotated. And so you see, I've been feeling mighty partial to James Franco these days. ;)

For me, physical attraction means you also send this certain tingle to my heart or exhilarate my mind in ways that serve to magnify my body's response. And such a tingle can only come from knowing a person. Knowing and respecting him. Sounds cheesy, but being sexy is all about how a guy wears it.
And, it’s not something you can just put on and expect to work miracles if it's not who you are. It’s whether you have any substance to back it up. Whether or not you can make that sexiness work in ways that are decidedly you. Why else is emotionally-invested sex so much more rewarding than the casual hook-up? I mean, I'll be honest here, I've never had a one-night stand (or even a one-time kiss for that matter), so maybe I'll like the random hook-up...but I highly doubt it, and do think it'd be an utter waste of time to try to prove something I already know is right.

Anyhow. It's a major turn-off when a guy depends on how he looks physically or thinks it should make up for what ever else he's lacking. I don't date gigolos. Plus, if a guy decides to act like a twit, I don’t give a shit how many girls think he’s oh-so handsome (that’s their problem). In my books, being inconsiderate, vain, weak-willed, insecure, dishonest and/or a hypocrite means he's lacking as a man (not mention as a decent human being as well)...and I'd think he's an asshole.

And, assholes are unanimously Ugly.
Don't believe me?
Check this one out. Actually, I dislike this one more.


IF YOU'RE GOING THROUGH HELL, KEEP GOING.
Winston Churchill